The Earth Mother's Child
by Rosebloom20
Summary: One peaceful, moonlit night, the earth mother conceived a child. Nine months later, she left tiny baby Hermia on her father's doorstep. After five years of mental, verbal, emotional and sometimes physical abuse, Hermia is taken to live with the wood elves. There she learns to become the greatest druid Hogwarts has ever seen. There she meets her best friend Harry Potter.
1. Chapter 1

The Earth Mother's Child

Chapter 1:

Havaniavere

One cold, September morning, the earth mother had a baby. This may not seem unusual, for the earth mother gave birth to many things, and all things grew upon her surface. This baby was not a tree, or a sunflower, or even a berry patch however. No this baby was a human girl, born while the mother was in human form, resting in a grassy hollow beside an ancient oak. This, of course, made the little baby girl much more than a mere human, but for the purposes of this story, she was raised to believe she was.

Havaniavere, or the earth mother in disguise, met and fell in love with a wandering human male, who was leaning against an apple tree late at night. That she fell in love might be a little strong to describe her feelings, for she never saw him again in human form. She always watched over his life, though, and loved their daughter more than life itself. The tree was heavily laiden with apples, their red color bleached white by the moonlight. One heavily laiden branch hovered just above the man's head, drooping low and swaying in the breeze. This is how Havaniavere found him.

He was sitting cross legged, his hands on his knees, palms upturned to the dark sky. Her tread was nearly silent as she approached him, and he was staring far off into space. She watched him silently for a few moments, tilting her hooded head from side to side. A pool of heat formed in her belly as she gazed at him, and she nodded slightly to herself. This one would do. He was not strong in magic, having only a trickle far back in his bloodline, but his strong character, combined with her own magic should just about do the trick.

"There is an apple about to fall upon your head," she mused in a husky, yet pleasant voice. "Shall I pluck it and spare you some pain?"

Her voice had a faint lilt to it, slow and rolling. Her vowels were long, though not drawn out. The man blinked and looked up at the woman, gazing vaguely at her as though he couldn't comprehend why she would be speaking to him. She reached out, plucking the large, round apple from the branch. She bent down, shining the apple on the man's shirt, rising back to her full height and stepping back with the shiny apple. Then slowly and deliberately, she took a large bite, chewing slowly and savoring the juicey taste on her tongue.

She stood an impressive six feet tall, her lush, curvy body draped in a flowing brown cloak. Her hands were large and calloused, her fingernails crusted with dirt. Her skin was the color of mahogany, coated with a light dusting of soil. Her long, rich black hair escaped the deep hood of the cloak in stray wisps, and flakes of earth seemed to rain lightly down from every inch of her, covered or not. The apple stained her mouth red, the juice dribbling down her plump lips to her square chin. She stood there almost in silence, her mouth the only thing moving as she chewed.

The man watched her and smiled faintly. He must be dreaming, he decided. No woman would ever come looking for him in the middle of the night when he should have been long home and in bed. Should he get up? He decided not to. If this was a dream, he decided to let it play out. He merely watched the woman instead, remaining perfectly still.

The woman sat next to the man, leaving a respectful distance between the two of them. In three more large bites, the apple was finished and she dug a small hole in the earth for the core. Then she turned to face him, reached out those large hands, and lifted his up, inspecting them.

"I can see that you love to read and write," she said, brushing a dirty finger against his ink stained thumb. "I can also see that you work with teeth."

She opened her mouth, exposing large, mossy teeth that were straight, if not well brushed. The man gaped at them in horror, running a tongue along his own, completely white and clean teeth. The woman chuckled softly, a low, almost rumbling sound.

"I am Havaniavere," she murmured, moving a little closer to the man. "What is your name, stranger?"

"Herman," the man mumbled. "Herman Granger."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Herman Granger," said Havaniavere, her apple reddened lips inches from Herman's. "I'm going to kiss you now. Stay still."

Havaniavere winked one large brown eye and Herman remained still. This was only a dream, after all. He was going to wake up at home in bed with his favorite book on the night stand beside him. He was going to go to work and think about the amazing sex the woman had given him and later, when he came home, he was going to think about it some more. Herman decided he liked that idea. Havaniavere kissed him, a firm, deep kiss and Herman remembered no more.

The sex was not gentle. It was not slow. It was rough and wild and needy and Havaniavere took all that Herman had to offer. After she had drunk her fill, so to speak, she pressed earth covered fingertips to Herman's eyes and bid him sleep and forget. Then she snapped her fingers and the earth rose up, swallowing Herman whole and transporting him back home.

"Aaaaaah," sighed Havaniavere, licking her lips. "That is exactly what I needed. My dear Hermia will have a sad, lonely childhood but she will have help and kindness too. She will have pain and sorrow, but she will also have love and tenderness."

The earth rose up around her, washing against her thighs. She sank slowly down, vanishing into her base form, millions of particals of earth speeding away with their prize. The earth rumbled and shook, a small, barely noticed tremor in the night.

Herman woke the next day, stretched out in bed and completely filthy. He was also naked, sticky and who knew what else. He looked down at himself with a scowl.

"Damn neighbors must have played a prank on me," he decided. "Took me out of bed and rolled me around in dirt and sap."

He mumbled and grumbled as he got up, stumbling to the bathroom. He felt dizzy and strange. He felt drained and floppy and out of it. He had no idea how he'd gotten outside, no idea he had been taken advantage of by a curvy, earth covered woman and no idea that in nine months, a little baby girl would be placed upon his doorstep in an oaken cradle lined with moss. He took a short, but thorough shower and got himself dressed for work.

"I have a date with Ann tonight," he reminded himself. "Got to get going and not mess up."

He whistled off key as he made his lunch. Then he put on his shoes and went to work. He did not notice the pile of dirt on his porch steps, nor that the trees surrounding his small house looked a lot greener and more sturdy than they did last night.

A/N Please read and review. Flames will be used to toast marshmallows.


	2. Chapter 2

The Earth Mother's Child

Chapter 2:

Hermia's Butterfly

Nine months later, Herman was married to Ann and they had gone on their honeymoon, somewhere in France. They had spent a week at a lovely hotel with a spa and Ann felt very pampered. They were just returning, Ann sitting beside Herman in their small gray car. She was checking her face in a small mirror, touching up her smudged make up. Herman was humming softly and off key as usual as he drove. After a few moments, Ann snapped her mirror shut and slipped it into her small, leather purse. She turned and looked over at Herman, smoothing down her dress.

"Are you sure the house will be ready for us when we get home?" she asked. "I can't stand going home to a dusty house."

"Of course," replied Herman, turning into their drive way. "Mrs. Garcia has gone in to dust and check everything over. She called me this morning while you were in the shower."

"Alright," said Ann, unbuckling her seat belt.

Herman walked around the car to open Ann's door, and they walked hand in hand to their front steps. Ann made a face at the pile of dirt on the bottom step and kicked it off with a booted toe. Some of the earth clung to her foot, however, sticky with something like sap. She marched up the steps, Herman at her side, only to stop once more at the sight of a little cradle sitting there on the top step.

"What on earth?" asked Ann. "Who has left their child here?"

The cradle was beautifully made from oak, intricately carved with flowering vines. It was painted in primary colors and lined with soft moss. Lying there inside the cradle was a tiny baby girl. She gazed up at them with chocolate brown eyes, her head a mop of curly, chestnut brown hair. Herman gazed down at the little baby, transfixed.

"She looks like me," he said softly, hand over his heart. "But how?"

"That's what I'd like to know too," said Ann, glaring down at the cradle and its precious occupant. "Have you been cheating on me, Herman? Answer me."

"I thought it was a dream," said Herman, leaning against the porch rail for support. "I was outside near the neighbor's apple tree and this woman came to me. She was all dirty and shrouded in this big, flowing brown cloak. She looked quite impressive."

The sight of the baby girl had sparked that brief memory, for Herman had completely forgotten Havaniavere when he had woken up. He stared at his feet, frowning as he tried to remember what he had said and done that night. His shoes were covered in dirt. How had that happened?

"So you had sex with this harlot and now she's dumped this child on us?" Ann fumed. "How could you? You disgust me, Herman. I can't believe I married you."

"I know," said Herman feebly. "I'm sorry. I don't remember anything other than the woman who came to me. I don't even remember her name."

Ann looked slightly mollified by this, thinking to herself that at least she was memorable. She was important and rich enough to gain Herman's attention. Ann watched as Herman stooped down to pick up the baby girl. She was swaddled in a knitted, pink blanket, a pink hat perched on her mop of curls. Herman cradled the baby to his chest, gazing down into her tiny face.

"We're not keeping her, are we?" asked Ann.

"Of course we are," said Herman. "She's mine. I'm not just going to throw her out."

"Hmph," muttered Ann, unlocking the door and walking inside. "Don't expect help from me."

"I think I'll name you Hermia," Herman decided. "I've always liked that name. I read it in a play called A Midsummer Night's Dream when I was in highschool."

Herman thought briefly over the name Hermione, comparing the two names, then he decided to go with the easier to say Hermia. Hopefully she would get less mocking if her name wasn't too hard to say or too weird. Hermia cooed and waved a chubby fist. Herman smiled slightly before taking his new daughter inside. He would have to buy milk and things for her later, but first, he needed to talk to his wife.

Two years passed and Hermia had grown into a tall, weedy little girl with her curly hair down to her waist. No one bothered to cut it, or even brush it most days. Hermia was always pushed to the side unless there was no good way of ignoring her. She spent more time outside and with Mrs. Garcia than with her own parents. Even her father seemed to have lost his shine for his little girl.

Shortly after Hermia was brought to live with Ann and Herman, Ann had fallen pregnant and Hermia's one year old sister Mitsy was much prettier and much more important. She was the apple of Herman and Ann's eyes and got everything she could ever want. She loved to poke and pinch at Hermia, steal and break her toys. Hermia tried to play with her little sister but all Mitsy ever wanted to do was pull Hermia's hair and rip up her books. Thus, Hermia spent more and more time outside.

She got dirty and played with bugs. She splashed in puddles and climbed trees. Her favorite was a tall, white pine tree which stood at the border line between hers and the neighbor's property. She would climb up it, getting scratched by the needles and not minding, sitting up in its branches for hours.

Being the tom boy that she was forced to be, Hermia had many more baths than even Mitsy, who loved to make messes with paper and markers and other crafty things. Nearing the age of three, Hermia knew how to bathe herself, dry the floor from all her splashing and tuck herself in at night. No one else would do it for her. If she took too long in the bath, Ann would toss her in bed, still wet and sticky from pine sap.

Herman did his best in his vague, feeble way. He still cared at least a little for Hermia, though he couldn't show it much around Ann. One day, not too long after Hermia's third birthday in which she had received only a cupcake and a book, he spotted his little girl playing outside with a giant, brightly colored butterfly. Hermia's hair was down to only the middle of her back now, because it had gotten so tangled and hopeless, Ann was forced to cut it. Hermia danced and swayed in the grass, batting at the butterfly, which fluttered around her head. Herman smiled slightly at the sight, only tearing his gaze away from the window when Mitsy bashed his leg with a book.

"That's not nice, Mitsy," said Herman. "No hitting."

What Herman and Ann did not know, was that the butterfly was not real. It was merely made of paper, colored and cut out with stolen crayons from Mitsy. Hermia had to replace them as soon as she had made the butterfly. It only looked real because Hermia's hands were making it move and fly about. It was a little lopsided for all the hard work she had spent on it. This would be her first, deliberately accidental piece of magic she had done and Hermia was proud. She had made things move before, but not on purpose.

Hiding behind the white pine, Sethaniri, a pale-skinned wood elf watched the girl. It was almost time to take her. He needed to wait but a year or so more before the earth mother would allow him to. He watched poor Hermia, playing with her first real friend who wasn't really a friend. He felt sad for her, twisting the hem of his tunic as he watched her.

"Soon, Hermia," he promised in elven. "Soon I will take you away. Then you will be treated like the queen you are."

Hermia tilted her head. Had she just heard a voice? It was merely a whisper of words she could not understand, but she was sure she heard something. She let the butterfly follow her to the tree and she peeked behind it. No one was there. She shrugged and went back to playing with her friend.

A/N Another chapter for you all. Please read and review. Flames will be used to heat my electric blanket.


	3. Chapter 3

The Earth Mother's Child

Chapter 3:

Taken

Another year passed and Hermia was almost half way through her fourth year, growing smarter by the day and more agile too as she played outside. She had filled out a little, growing taller and more muscled. Her hair was now up in two braids to keep it more manageable, grudgingly done by Anne each morning. Anne didn't care for or love Hermia, but now that she had grown used to her, she couldn't bring herself to just throw Hermia out of the house.

The vegetables that Mitsy ignored, were quickly snatched up by Hermia. Mitsy was a little chubby for her age, though not fat and she hated vegetables. She had considered not letting Hermia have her vegetables, but Hermia taught Mitsy a trick that seemed to finally indeer Hermia at least a little to the girl.

One sunny day, after Hermia had come inside, rather than bring her book to the table, she had gone to put it away. Hermia had just started teaching herself to read, helped along a little by her father, who though he paid little attention to Hermia nowadays, was happy at least one of his daughters was showing an interest in reading. He would sit down with her for about an hour each day after work, going over sounds, letters and words. Hermia had an inquisitive mind and was always asking questions. She set the book on her small shelf, making sure it was lined up perfectly, before running into the kitchen. She stopped short, though, at Anne's stern look.

"No running, Hermia," Anne admonished, barely managing to keep the snear off her face though it lingered in her voice.

"Sorry Anne," Murmured Hermia, walking slowly past her.

Hermia scrambled into her seat at the table, right across from Mitsy. Anne set down two plates of potatoes, chicken and carrots. Hermia noticed Mitsy's portion of chicken was larger than her own, but bit her tongue, digging into the bland, though still not too bad food. Mitsy shoved her carrots to the side, attacking her chicken and potatoes happily. Hermia thought for a moment, then spoke up.

"I can do a trick if you let me have your vegetables," she said softly to Mitsy when Anne wasn't looking.

Mitsy thought about it, chewing a big bite of chicken. Then she nodded and Hermia raised her hands. Slowly the carrots floated over to Hermia's plate, doing a little spin in mid air. Mitsy clapped and whooped as she watched the spectacle.

"Hermy know magic?" she asked, in what Hermia almost thought was sinsarity.

It couldn't be, could it? Mitsy was waiting, so Hermia finally nodded. Mitsy grinned through a mouthful of potatoes.

"Cool!" she exclaimed. "Hermy know more magic?"

"I can show you more if you promise not to tell Anne and dad," Hermia said.

Mitsy nodded, and from then on Hermia received more food and less torture from her little sister. They almost became like friends, though Mitsy still thought herself above Hermia and would always think so.

A few weeks later found Mitsy and Hermia playing almost sivilly outside, throwing a ball back and forth. Sethaniri watched them from behind his tree. Soon it would be time. Soon he would spirit Hermia away to the wood elves where she could begin her training and where, he was sure, she would meet her mother. Sethaniri wasn't certain Havaniavere would show up, but he knew she was always watching. It was nearing Hermia's fifth birthday, and on that fateful day, he would act. For now, though, he would watch and wait. There was little else he could do for Hermia right now.

"Catch!" shouted Hermia as she threw the ball to Mitsy.

The chubby girl fumbled it but just managed to catch the ball with her fingertips. She yelled in triumph, raising her fist in the air. Hermia grinned and gestured for her sister to throw the ball. Mitsy took aim and the ball went speeding toward Hermia. It smacked her in the face before she could try and catch it and Mitsy giggled.

"Oops."

Hermia wiped tears from her eyes, touching her nose to see if it was okay. Mitsy must have some sort of magic. There was no way that ball could move so fast. Behind his tree, Sethaniri frowned. He would have to watch out for that one too.

On Hermia's fifth birthday, she received two books and her customary cupcake. Her father said happy birthday to her, but no one else did, though Mitsy was nicer to her that day. When Hermia went to bed, she fell asleep almost instantly, snuggled up under her thin blanket. Sethaniri dropped in through the open window and, wrapping Hermia up in her blanket, picked her up and took her away from there.

"Finally," he said, kissing the little girl's forehead. "Finally I can take you home."

He ran speedily toward the forest, jumping through a portal between two ash trees as he ran. The portal was not always there, but on this night it was. It only opened once every five years or on a special occasion. They were now in the land of the wood elves and Sethaniri felt at peace.

A/N Please read and review. Flames will be used to burn howlers. If anyone would like to help co-write this story, I would be greatful. Long chapters are not my strong suit. If you feel like adopting the story please let me know also.


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